Death on the Tracks. What a Railway Accident Can Teach Us About Filmmaking

Recent news of the criminal prosecution and sentencing to two years in prison of film director Randall Miller in the death of camera assistant Sarah Jones on an indie film shoot in Georgia has been stuck in my brain like glue. They were shooting a scene on tracks used by freight trains. They weren't permitted. And the freight train just came up too quickly. It crashed into a truck bed, debris from which flew into the crew, killing Sarah Jones.

See, it wasn't so long ago that I was leading my own skeleton crew through the fields and back roads of Omaha on a 3-day shoot of a scene in We Pedal Uphill, the culmination of which was a 2 min. sequence featuring a parked truck on the railroad tracks, a bottle of champagne and enough dirty doings to keep us all up at night.

Here's what I remember about our shoot. I'm not sure we got a permit. But we did check in with the local film commission and they provided us with details of the freight train schedules for our particular crossing so we knew when the next train was scheduled to come by and planned accordingly. But that scene took more than an hour to shoot, even on our shoestring budget so you can imagine how much time it might eat up on a bigger production. We needed our moment to be the edge of dusk so we really couldn't afford to draw it out much anyway.

But this news of the accident in Georgia has me doing a good deal of soul-searching about just how easy it is to succumb to the temptation to cut corners, especially when working in the low-budget arena. I like to think I didn't put my actors or crew at risk but can I be so sure? We took the precautions we felt were prudent at the time while still managing to squeak out a feature film for thousands, rather than millions. And lucky for us, no one got hurt or killed. 

But I am reminded of another film I worked on years before that one where lines of safety were far more blurry.

As one of the film's lower level producers, I was tasked with, among other things, arranging for transport of crew and equipment to and from a foreign country where principal photography was taking place. The country in question was one to which an American ought not travel without first obtaining some very important vaccinations. In order to get our film stock over to set from New York, we "hired" local people as couriers offering them free airfare and an overnight in a strange new land in exchange for carrying the raw film stock in their carry-on luggage along with an official letter from the Consul General ordering security to not x-ray the contents. 

Whenever I was called on to recruit a new courier, I'd refer them to a physician's office for vaccination. Some of these vaccines took 2-3 days to take effect so we needed a week lead time in order to safeguard the health of our volunteers.

Once during a particularly stressful week of the shoot, I got intense pressure from my supervising producer to get our courier on the next plane ASAP. When I protested that it was too soon, that this courier was only getting vaccinated that day and needed a couple days before a doctor would allow her to board the plane, I got strong and exasperated push-back.

Some of the illnesses one can acquire through travel are life-altering -- chronic conditions from which one may never bounce back. I couldn't in good conscience comply with my direct orders and I am convinced that this is at least partly responsible for the chilly way I was treated from that moment forward. 

Honestly, I think when we work with less money and less time than would be ideal, corners will be cut. It's almost unavoidable. I do think, however, a safe question to bring to each decision is pretty simple:

Would I be comfortable putting myself in this situation?

If that answer is even maybe, you have to find another way. No matter what the costs. Because a damaged production schedule or budget I can live with.

Damage to my integrity? Not so much.